


don't know where we're going (but we know where we belong)

by nothingbutniall



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, WTFock Season 2, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 04:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18957544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: Zoë’s parents are moving to the US. They want Zoë to join them.





	don't know where we're going (but we know where we belong)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Zoë telling Senne about her family.
> 
> (Title comes from Harry Styles' Sweet Creature.)

**Thursday 23 May, 21:06**

“I’m not going!” she yells from the top of the stairs.

Her mother stands in the door opening of the living room. Her father hasn’t moved from his spot of the sofa.

“Zoë, we’re not leaving you here,” her mother sighs, frustration lacing her voice.

“You’ve left me before, what’s the difference?” Zoë snaps. She’s not going, she’s _not_. They can’t make her move across the ocean just because _they_ are chasing yet another “incredible opportunity, really, Zoë, it’s an honour to be offered this position.”

“We were only a few hours away. You’re sixteen, we won’t have you live on your own on a different continent.”

Zoë purses her lips, eyes shooting daggers at her mother. This was the longest she’d stayed anywhere in years. She’d settled in, acquired a routine, made friends. She doesn’t want to give any of it up, doesn’t want to leave this life she has grown to love so much. Doesn’t want to leave this boy she’s grown so fond of. She swallows back tears, bottom lip trembling.

Her father comes into view, standing next to his wife. He’s got a determined look in his face and Zoë knows. She’s fighting a losing battle.

“It wasn’t a question, Zoë.” His voice is cold. “Think of your future. You can extend your network, improve your English and go to a top-ranking university. There are so many chances for you out there. We only want the best for you, you know that.”

She wants to tell him she values true friendship more than vague acquaintances, and that her English is just fine, thank you very much, and that Belgian universities don’t require life-long debt and the promise of your first-born. She wants to tell him Antwerp is the first city that hasn’t swallowed her whole and that her shared flat feels more like a home than any of the villa’s she’s ever lived in. She wants to tell him about Senne.

But she doesn’t.

Because they don’t care. They never do.

Instead, she turns around and slams the door. She hopes her mother will tell her off for disturbing the neighbours, so she can yell at her that she doesn’t care about this stupid Airbnb with its stupid cathedral view and its stupid neighbours, but it stays quiet.

She leans against the door and lets herself slide to the ground. The wood floor feels nice underneath her, warmed up by the afternoon sun. The room bathes in an orange glow, the ceiling-to-floor window making the most of golden hour.

If she moved, she could see the pier Senne and she had their first date. Or no, not a date. A meeting. She smiles sadly at the memory.

With a sigh, she pushes herself up and walks towards the bed. She hadn’t even got the chance to unpack before her parents called her down to deliver the news, but maybe that was for the best. Now she only has to grab her bag and unplug her phone charger. If her parents think she’s staying the night, they’re thoroughly mistaken.

She walks down the stairs, not even trying to be sneaky, and before either of her parents can react, Zoë’s out of the door. She knows they won’t come after her – they don’t care enough to come after her, she thinks bitterly.

Hoisting her bag higher onto her shoulder, she takes her phone from her pocket and unlocks it. She’s got a few new Instagram notifications and an unread message from Jana asking her about history homework. She ignores it all for now, opening her texts with Senne.

_Are you home?_

_Yeah_

_Playing guitar 😏🎸_

_Be there in 5._

The walk doesn’t take her long, Senne’s flat just a bit further up the street. The roar of the city fills her ears, cars honking and people bustling on the sidewalk, electric scooters weaving their way through at dazzling speeds.

The lift is quiet when she gets in. The girl looking back at her in the mirror doesn’t look like her, eyes dull and face blank. She feels like crying but the tears get stuck in her throat.

Senne is waiting in the door opening when she steps out of the lift, opening his arms with a smile. She accepts the hug gratefully, head resting against his collarbone.

His shirt smells like the warmth and comfort she’s grown to associate with him and she breathes him in.

One of his hands wraps loosely around her shoulder while the other rakes through her hair.

“You okay?” He presses a kiss in her hair.

She shrugs and lifts her head, seeking out his mouth for a kiss. She can taste the questions on his lips.

“I’ve got something to tell you.” She steps out of his embrace and drops her bag next to the door.

His eyes search her face for clues and she averts her gaze.

“What is it?”

She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as she walks towards the window. It seems like ages ago that they stood here side by side, both of them hyper aware of the tension between them.

She looks aside to where Senne has taken a seat in the chair. “My parents are moving to America.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

“They are making me go with them.” Her voice breaks and she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

The silence stretches out between them, long seconds passing quietly. Zoë chews the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry. Senne looks like he’s struggling to find words, opening and closing his mouth every few seconds.

“Come here,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper.

She takes the three steps needed to cross the distance between them and stands between his legs, looking down at him. He reaches a hand out and wraps it around her hip, thumb sneaking under her shirt. “Come here,” he repeats softly, pulling her forward so she’s in his lap.

Their position is awkward, her knee too close to his crotch, his arm unable to properly reach around her. She shuffles, repositioning so she’s on his lap sideways, and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

His fingers run up and down her arm in a soothing manner, leaving goosebumps in their trail.

“When do they plan on leaving?”

“Sunday,” she mumbles.

His fingers still. “This Sunday?”

She nods, a tear sliding down her cheek. She feels his breath catch for a beat.

“They want to take you out of school before your exams?”

“Yep,” she says bitterly. “Didn’t you know that American schools are far superior? Who cares about Belgian exams when you can learn about climate change being a hoax and have active shooter drills every week and do cheerleading over the weekend?”

He sighs and kisses her forehead, lingering for a second. She turns her head and stares out the window. There’s a ship passing by slowly, cutting through the water and creating waves that catch on the riverbanks.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

She’s not sure if he’s talking about her being in his flat or about the pending move to America, but she doesn’t want to leave, either. Not now. Not when she finally feels like she belongs somewhere.

Outside, the streetlights come on.

“Why won’t they let you stay here?”

“They claim it’s too far.” She lifts a shoulder. “Not that that’s ever bothered them before.”

“Can you ask them to let you finish your school year? It’d buy you some time, and maybe they’d realise you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself even if you’re in a different part of the world.”

She hums and laces their fingers together. Talking to her parents is the last thing she wants to do right now. She’d be perfectly content staying in her little Senne bubble, where the outside world can’t get to her and all that matters is the softness of this boy she once thought was too rough.

There is no time for softness when their lips find each other. They’re gasping into each other’s mouths, biting as if to leave a mark, swallowing the desperation that’s threatening to pull them under.

“Stay with me?” Senne whispers against her lips.

She nods.

 

 

**Saturday 25 May, 16:48**

I’m staying!

At least till June, maybe/hopefully longer.

❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall).


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